Kingdom Hearts: A Christmas Carol
by Talonwings
Summary: The classic Charles Dickens tale of sins and repentance, now featuring everyone's favorite Kingdom Hearts characters! I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its canon characters.
1. Chapter 1

**From boredom is born such tales as this one.**

**As you all know, I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters; nor do I own **_**A Christmas Carol**_**, NOR do I own Disney's **_**Christmas at the House of Mouse**_**, from which I got this idea. I merely own a very inventive brain.**

The streets of the little town were thick with snow; the crystals covered everything in a cold and icy blanket that glittered like diamonds as it settled gently over the rooftops and walls. The whiteness turned to ice as it descended over the lake, and then to slush and water as it was tracked through the streets and into the buildings by the throng of passing pedestrians on their way to work or school.

The crowds were alive with merriment, the children skipping and the adults walking with just a bit more spring in each step. For tonight was Christmas Eve, that most magical of nights that fills every town, every home and every heart with joy.

Except for one.

The counting house was cold and drafty, the winter wind whistling in between the cracks in the walls and ceiling where the builder had been just a _little _too careless with his placement. There was one stove in the center of the room; a squat, potbellied, ugly little thing with a crooked stovepipe that jutted from its top at a precarious angle. No fire burned within the little stove, though; no smoke wafted from its pipe. The room remained cold and silent, save for the scratching of a pen on paper with the occasional pause as its owner refilled it from the steadily freezing inkwell.

There was a final sigh as the pen's nib clicked against solid ice. Once again, the ink had completely frozen over.

The pen's owner, a tall, thin young man clad only in a threadbare coat, his mop of petal-pink hair sticking out crazily from beneath a hastily-knitted hat, rose slowly from his position at the scribe's desk beside the doorway. Shooting a casual, quick glance at the counting house door, he moved over to the stove, bending down and reaching beneath it. With a terrible scraping of metal on wood, out slid a shallow tin bucket which contained a few small pieces of coal.

The young man glanced at the door once more; then, satisfied that no one was there, he reached into the bucket and pulled out a piece of coal, his fingers quickly staining black as it flaked off into his gloveless hand.

He smiled at the tiny object he held. So small, and yet very soon, it would provide light and warmth to brighten the whole counting house—

"Lumaria!"

A sudden voice from the door made the young man look up in surprise, his stomach clenching as he heard the tone of anger in the voice.

Standing by the door, dressed in what could only be described as finery, was a tall, gaunt-looking man with long blond hair. Although some would say his face, with its angular, nearly carved quality, was handsome, Lumaria could only wince at the cold hostility in his master's green eyes.

"Y-yes, sir?" he responded quietly, trying to drop the coal piece back into the bucket inconspicuously. He missed, however, and it clattered to the floor. Lumaria cringed as it bounced and rolled away behind him.

"What are you doing with that coal?" the blond-haired man demanded, glaring venomously at Lumaria.

"I was… just trying to thaw out the ink, Master Even," Lumaria replied, bowing his head beneath his master's fearsome gaze. To prove his honesty, he moved back to his scribe's desk and hefted the ink bottle, handing it to his master with his eyes still on the floor.

Even took the bottle, frowning as he shook it vigorously. When no ink splashed out onto his hand, he handed it back to Lumaria with a sigh.

"Very well. _One _piece of coal," he told the young man. "You may retrieve the one you dropped as you were trying to conceal it from me." Another withering glance made Lumaria's cheeks flush with shame; nothing escaped the cold emerald eyes of his master.

Hurriedly, Lumaria went to reclaim the lost piece of coal from where it had come to rest beneath his master's counting desk. Quickly, he tossed it into the stove, then took the matchbook down from where it rested atop the stove's metal roof, beside the stovepipe. He struck a match, and it flared brightly in the dim room before Lumaria tossed itontothe pile of old wood and the one piece of coal in the stove. The flame sputtered and choked for a few seconds before flaring to life. Smoke began to puff out of the stovepipe, and a little bit escaped through the cracks in the stove door and at the seams, which, like the counting house itself, were a little lacking in quality.

Lumaria sat himself back down at the scribe's desk, glancing over at his master, who had seated himself at the counting desk and was pulling loose the strings on a fat brown sack that lay before him. Gold coins spilled out onto Even's desk, and he cupped his hands and scooped them toward himself, careful not to let so much as a single one fall from the table. Quickly, the blond man moved the pile of shimmering metal over to one side of his desk, then, just as quickly, he began thumbing coins over to the other side, stacking them into piles of ten with amazing rapidity.

"Now let's see," he muttered. "That'll be… hmm… three hundred munny from Inazuma, plus his interest, add to that what he's due from last month…" An unhealthy glitter was sparkling in Even's eye as he flicked the coins into their respective piles, and Lumaria turned away with a nearly inaudible sigh, picking up his pen and dipping it back into the inkwell, which had begun to thaw out.

A sudden thought made him look up again, his eyes flickering uncertainly over to Even. The man's sour mood seemed to have completely dissipated in the face of the piles of gold, and now seemed as good a time as any for what Lumaria had in mind.

"Er… Master Even?" he asked softly.

Even looked up, his hand pausing, just about to flick another coin.

"Eh? Yes, what is it, Lumaria?" he asked, sounding slightly bored and slightly annoyed at the same time.

"Well, sir… I… I was wondering—since tomorrow is Christmas Day—if I could have… ha—half a day off, sir," Lumaria stuttered, immediately closing his eyes in preparation for both disappointment and the blow he was sure would be coming.

"Christmas, is it?" Even asked, as though he had just realized it. The blond man stroked his chin thoughtfully, and Lumaria opened one eye, a spark of hope shooting through his chest.

"Mmmnnn… I suppose so," Even finally said. "But I'll have to dock you half your pay for tomorrow's workday. Let's see… I pay you two hundred munny a day—"

"Two hundred fifty, sir," Lumaria ventured, shrinking back slightly.

"Hm? Oh yes, I gave you that raise the year before last," Even recalled, nodding as the memory entered his mind.

"Yes sir," Lumaria nodded energetically. "When I started doing your laundry for you."

"Yes, yes," Even waved the details away. "So I'll pay you one hundred twenty-five munny for tomorrow, and you may leave at two P.M. Oh," he added, pulling something out from behind his desk and throwing it to Lumaria, "and here's another bundle of clothes for you."  
>Lumaria caught the large cloth bag eagerly, setting it down beside his scribe's desk.<p>

"Oh, thank you, sir!" he exclaimed. "You're exceedingly kind!"

Even glared at his young subordinate. "Never mind all that mushy stuff!" he snapped. "Just get back to your duties!"

"Yes sir, right away!" Lumaria replied happily, turning back to his scroll.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the counting house door.

"See to that, Lumaria," Even called wearily, not even bothering to look up.

"Right away!" Lumaria hopped up from his chair and went to the door, flinching a little as his gloveless palm grasped the cold metal. He turned the handle and yanked the door open hard.

There on the stoop stood a tall and lanky young man in a bright red coat. A huge smile creased his face, and his shock of flaming red hair stuck up in all directions.

"Merry Christmas!" the young man called cheerfully, stepping through the door.

"And a Merry Christmas to you, Master Lea," Lumaria replied with a smile, standing aside as Lea walked past and shutting the door heavily behind him.

"Bah," snorted Even from the counting desk. "What's so merry about it? I'll tell you what Christmas is—it's just another workday. Just an excuse for young lads like yourself to be lazy."

Lea glared up at the other man, indignation shining in his bright turquoise eyes. "Uncle Even, you're so sour!" he exclaimed.

Even snorted. "Hardly. I'm worldly wise. I know what you young fools are like."

Lea rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. It was then that Lumaria noticed the large, gaily decorated wreath that the other young man carried in his right hand.

"Just what exactly are you doing here anyway, nephew?" Even asked tersely.

Lea held out the large wreath. "I've come to give you this wreath, and to invite you to Christmas dinner," he explained. "Liseth is making a huge feast, and the whole family's coming."

Even's eyes seemed to light up. "Tell me now," he said slowly. "Will there be turkey and gravy?"

Lea nodded, smiling. "Yes."

"And hot apple pie?"

"Yes."

"And spiced coffee with caramel?"

"Yes, Uncle Even. Will you come, please?"

Even's expression soured in the blink of an eye. "You know that stuff is bad for my digestion!" he snapped. "Now take your wreath and get _out_!"

And with that, he shoved the wreath back at Lea, stomped over to the door, pulled it open wide, and shoved the brightly dressed young man back out into the snow, slamming the door with a huge _crash_.

Lumaria winced.

The day wore on over the counting house roof. The fire in the small stove slowly burned down, leaving the room seemingly colder than ever. Lumaria rubbed his hands together every few seconds, but no matter how much he tried, he just could not warm them up without Even noticing the pause and snapping at him to return to his work. Fearful of losing the half day's reprieve that Even's small mercy had given him, Lumaria was forced to write his scribe's notes with increasingly numb fingers.

Lumaria was in the middle of shakily scribbling delinquency counts for a mortgage debt when another knock sounded on the door.

"Lumaria," Even called, still engrossed in his money.

"Yes, sir," Lumaria replied instantly, rising from the scribe's chair and taking the opportunity to rub his hands together ferociously, trying to stimulate some feeling back into his limp fingers.

Digits tingling, he pulled open the door once again to reveal two well-dressed men standing on the stoop. One of them had a large, bushy mustache and wore a monocle over his left eye. The other one was short and slightly pudgy, and held a tin cup in his right hand.

Even looked up from his desk, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of the two men.

"Ah, customers!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair and moving eagerly toward the newcomers.

"I'll handle this, Lumaria," he said, maneuvering the younger man out of the way. Lumaria nodded humbly and returned to his chair, watching the scene with interest and continuing to rub his hands.

"What can I do for you two fine gentlemen?" Even asked pleasantly, smiling at the two men. To Lumaria, the smile seemed slightly hungry.

"Good evening, sah," the mustached one said pompously, with a heavily refined accent. "We are here soliciting funds for the penurious and destitute."  
>"Come again?" Even asked, a confused look crossing his face.<p>

"We're collecting money for the poor," the short one said. His voice was quiet and soft, with a slight rural drawl.

Lumaria saw Even's eyebrows tighten, but other than that, there was no sign that the man was disturbed by this news.

"Ah hah, I see," Even replied. Then his face twisted into something like confusion. "You two do realize that if you give your money to the poor… they'll no longer be poor."

"Well, yes, that is the general ide—" the tall one began.

Even cut him off. "And if they're not poor anymore, then there will be no reason for you to collect for them, will there?"

"Well, no, but-" the short one said, but Even interrupted a second time.

"And if there's no reason to collect for them, then the both of you would be out of a job," he finished. "Now please; don't ask me to put you out of a job. Not on Christmas Eve, of all nights."

The mustached one looked confused. "We wouldn't do that, Master Even-"

Even's eyes narrowed. "Wonderful. Then I suggest you donate that tin cup, and get out of my counting house."

And with that, the door slammed once again. Even sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and turning to Lumaria.

"Ah, Lumaria," he said. "What is wrong in the heads of these people? All your life, you work hard to earn your money… and then they expect you to just throw it away, like rubbish."

Lumaria had no answer for him. Even sighed once more and returned to his desk.

At last, the shadows outside the window lengthened and fell to night. The old wall clock in the counting house was long past broken, but outside the window, Lumaria faintly caught the sound of the clock tower bell chiming eight P.M. Happily, the rosette young man rolled up his documentation scroll and stuck his pen back into the inkwell, beginning to rise from his seat.

Behind him, Even checked his pocketwatch, which was still slowly ticking. "Two minutes fast," he observed casually.

Lumaria instantly sat down again, beginning to unroll the scroll.

Even waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, those two minutes are extra. You may leave."

Lumaria jumped up again, smiling widely. "Oh, thank you, Master Even!"

Even glared at him. "But be here all the earlier tomorrow morning!"

"Absolutely, yes, sir!" Lumaria said. "And a bah humbug—er, I mean, a very Merry Christmas to you, Master Even!"

Even merely rolled his eyes. The door scraped open and closed, and Lumaria was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

It was very late when Even himself finally departed the counting house, his money all stowed away in the large metal safe he kept locked behind a corner bookcase.

As he stepped out onto the stoop, Even noticed the counting house sign, the top of which was frosted with snow. The bottom name was still visible, however, although it was slightly obscured by the large X that had been marked through it.

_- and Highwind_, the sign read.

"Ah, Master Dilan," Even sighed. "That man was classy and prosperous. Stole mortgage money from old ladies and food money from children, he did. Too bad the Heartless stole his heart…"

Reaching up with his cane, Even banged on the sign, knocking the frozen snow from the top of it. The sign now read _Hisame and Highwind_.

Whistling, Even marched down off the stoop, bowing slightly against the freezing wind. His tall boots made distinct tracks in the snow that had built up along the streets, their imprints clear-cut and sharply defined, black against the white.

It was a fifteen-minute walk from the counting house back to Even's own residence; a massive brick house that loomed above those on either side of it. Even had had the house built after he made his first hundred thousand in counting, to remind all those beneath him of exactly how capable he was of looking down on them.

The blond-haired man climbed the stairs slowly, head now bowed low against the wind that had grown to nearly a gale force. He gripped the freezing handrail tightly, feeling the ice melting and soaking into his glove. With one hand, he reached for the knocker that was actually the handle, a cleverly disguised lever that unlatched the lock inside the door.

Even grasped the knocker tightly, then jerked back in surprise as it moved under his hand and let out a loud cry of pain.

Peering closely at it, Even's eyes went wide with shock and horror. Instead of the leering gargoyle face of the knocker, the face that glared out at him, wrinkling its bronze nose, was that of his former partner, Dilan Highwind.

"H-Highwind?" Even gasped.

"Who do you think?" the knocker snapped, in Dilan's distinctly accented voice.

Even released a cry of terror, drew his emergency key from his pocket, and unlocked the door at the handle, throwing it open and stumbling into the house, then slamming it behind him. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, breathing hard. From outside, there was no sound but the forlorn whistling of the wind. Besides that, all was silent.

Slowly, Even relaxed. Rationally, he told himself, there was no way Dilan's face could have been on his door knocker. Dilan had been dead for five years now, ever since the Heartless had attacked him and stolen his heart.

"It was just my imagination," Even whispered into the silence. "It wasn't real."

Once he had calmed down enough to move, Even started up the grand staircase, the wood creaking slightly beneath the heels of his tall black boots. The house was dark and eerie beneath him, and Even's eyes darted nervously, straining to catch any sudden movement in the shadows below. His ears seemed strained nearly to their breaking point, listening intently for any noise behind him.

A loud creak caught his attention, and he froze, whirling in place. The creak sounded exactly like the creak made by the fourth step in the staircase if one did not remember to tread lightly upon the carpeted side portion of the step and not the wooden center. He expected to see someone there, standing behind him, weapon possibly raised for an assault.

There was no one there.

Wiping his brow, which had suddenly become damp with cold sweat, Even continued on up the stairs, now concentrating only on listening.

Another creak sounded, and this one seemed closer, somehow. Even spun again, expecting an assassin to rise slowly from the floor and plunge a blade into his chest.

Still, no one appeared.

Thoroughly strung-out, Even turned once more and began climbing, shaking as he did so. His cane trembled in his hand as he placed it on the next step up.

A loud creak came from just behind him.

This time, when he heard the noise, Even did not turn. Rather, he lifted his cane slowly, reversed it in his hand, and jabbed it suddenly backward in a violent thrust.

Someone exclaimed in pain, and Even felt the impact of the cane as it hit something soft and fleshy. When he looked behind him, however, there was no physical person standing there. The air behind him was empty, but the moonlight piercing through the round window above cast shadows onto the wall beside him. There was his shadow, the shadow of his cane sticking out… into the large shadow of another figure, which was clutching its sides and moaning.

Even shouted in alarm and ran full tilt the last bit of the way up the stairs, opening his bedroom door, dashing in, slamming the door and locking it securely behind him, bolting it with the many bolts he had installed over the years. He leaned against it, shivering and hyperventilating, his eyes wide and pupils dilated with fright.

A sudden rattling against the door elicited another cry of panic from the terrified man. Quickly, Even shoved himself off of the door and ran to the huge armchair by the fireplace, throwing himself into it and peering around the back of the chair like a timid child.

The door continued to rattle behind him, trembling and shaking violently. Wood creaked, hinges shuddered, and suddenly, the door blew completely off its hinges, falling forward into the room. The destruction was accompanied by an icy blast of wind, as well as a sound like a gunshot. Even screamed, cowering in the armchair, as a figure stepped into the room.

Tall and muscular, the figure stood a good six inches higher than Even's six foot height. He wore a long, pitch-black coat that blew around his ankles in the gusts of wind. Black dreadlocks whipped about his severe-looking face, which was encroached upon by massive triangular sideburns from either side. His dark eyes regarded Even with a mixture of distaste and what seemed like annoyance.

Dilan Highwind stepped clear of the fallen door, the wind settling somewhat as he moved farther into the room, to stand before the armchair where Even huddled in a shivering heap.

"Even Hisame!" boomed the deep voice of the black-haired man.

"Please, go away!" Even shouted.

Dilan frowned. "Hisame, it's me, Dilan Highwind. I was your partner. Don't you recognize me?"

Trembling, Even reached for the candle and matchbook on the table beside the armchair, striking the match shakily and lighting the wick with an unsteady hand. He held the wavering flame up to more closely view his visitor's face, and his own face grew, if possible, even paler.

"Dilan," he whispered hoarsely. "It _is_ you."

Dilan nodded. "Yes, though they call me Xaldin now." He crossed his arms, looking down the bridge of his nose at Even.

"W-what do you want with me?" Even stuttered.

Xaldin glared at the other man, rolling his eyes. "You're a heartless man, Hisame," he thundered. "Even more so than I, and I truly lack a heart."

Even's eyes grew big and round. "Lack a…" he whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

Xaldin nodded. "I was evil during my life, so as punishment for my sins, the Heartless relieved me of my heart, under the orders of Fate," he said. "You, Hisame, have been far more cruel than I."

Even began to shake even harder, the armchair vibrating visibly with his terror.

"No, please!" he begged. "I don't want to lose my heart!"

Xaldin regarded Even with disgust for a moment more, and then he replied, "You shall have another chance."

Even looked up hopefully. "I shall?"

"Tonight, you shall be visited by three spirits," Xaldin boomed. "Listen to them and follow their orders, or your heart shall be stolen from you and never returned, and you shall be forced to live emotionless for eternity, with no second chances!"

Even, a frightfully superstitious man, was alarmed and terrified by this news.

"Please!" he pleaded. "Is there no other way?"

Xaldin shook his head in utter contempt. "Farewell, Hisame," he replied curtly. A swirling portal of darkness appeared in the doorway behind him. With one last glare at Even, Xaldin stepped through the doorway and was lost from sight. The darkness dissolved behind him, and Even was left alone and frightened in the wavering candlelight.

Still shaken by his ordeal, Even prepared himself for bed, dressing in his woolen nightshirt and nightcap and slipping his warmest slippers over his feet. He climbed into his four-poster bed and lay there staring up at the canopy above, which yawned like the great, dark maw of some abyssal beast.

_I must try to sleep_, Even thought. _Who knows how long it could be before those spirits—_

He mentally slapped himself. _There are no spirits. That was a dream, nothing more._

With a sigh, Even closed his eyes and turned over beneath the covers, feeling his drowsiness begin to take him as he lay still and quiet.

Just as the man was beginning to fall asleep, however, the chiming of his alarm clock wakened him from his dozing state. Even jerked awake, sitting up straight.

"Anything-forsaken device," he muttered resentfully, yanking on the cord to draw back the curtains of the canopied bed.

He gasped in surprise, his heart nearly jumping into his mouth. A small boy sat on the bedside table, flicking the alarm clock bells with his right index finger and thumb. The boy was dressed in simple winter breeches, tall boots and a long woolen coat, and his silvery-blue hair hung into his face.

"Ienzo?" Even breathed, his eyes turning soft for just a second. The day he had lost Ienzo to the Heartless had been one of the saddest days of Even's worldly life. The boy had meant nearly as much to him as his precious golden coins.

The boy turned to face Even, and in that instant, he changed. No longer was he Ienzo; now, standing, he was almost as tall as Even. His cobalt eyes shimmered in the moonlight coming through the window, and his hair, the same shade of silvery-blue, completely obscured his right eye.

"Greetings, Master Even," the boy said politely. The cadence of his voice was similar to Ienzo's, although it was pitched slightly deeper.

"My name is Zexion. I'm the spirit of Christmas Past."

Even's eyebrows shot up as he realized what was going on. Xaldin had told him the truth, after all.

"Christmas Past?" he repeated, without thinking about it.

Zexion nodded. "We're going to take a journey into your memories, Master Even," he said.

"My… my memories?" Even asked, his breath hitching slightly. "I'm not sure I want to go there…"

Zexion did not seem to hear him. Moving quickly, the slim boy walked to the window, unlatching it and throwing it open. Blasts of snowy air shot into the room, ruffling the canopies of Even's bed and chilling him quickly.

"Wait, Zexion!" Even cried, but it was too late. Zexion was back across the room, grasping Even by the hand and pulling him to the window.

"After you," the boy invited.

"Are you daft?" Even exclaimed. "I can't go out there; I'll fall!"

Zexion sighed, grabbing Even under both his arms. "Then I suggest you hold on tight."

And with that, the slate-haired boy leaped out of the window, carrying Even with him.

Even shrieked as he felt the cold winter air rushing past him, closing his eyes. He was expecting, at any moment, the pain of impact as they splattered onto the cold cobblestones below.

The impact didn't come.

Slowly, Even cracked one eye open, then the other. Then, both eyes opened fully wide, and Even gasped. They were flying smoothly above the snow-covered rooftops of the town, which seemed miniature and faraway from such a height. Unconsciously, Even clamped his arms tighter across Zexion's, to ensure that the boy didn't lose his hold.

"Oh, what's the matter, Master Even?" Zexion asked him casually. "It was my impression that you enjoyed looking down on the world."

Even glared at the boy but did not answer, fearing that if he opened his mouth for one second, the rooftops and Zexion's face would be covered in the dinner he hadn't eaten.

Finally, just when Even was beginning to think he would vomit no matter what, Zexion turned sharply downward, descending until he touched lightly down onto a small street in front of a shop with lighted windows. He hooked an arm around Even's shoulders, propelling the older man toward the windows until he was forced to look in.

Within the shop, a scene of absolute merriment could be viewed. People dressed in gaily colored holiday finery danced about over a wooden dance floor, while the sound of music wafted gently out through the door from the several fiddlers and flute players stationed on wooden crates around the dance floor.

"Why… it's Takezaki's," Even breathed. "It's the old tearoom! I remember this place! I worked here for most of the first half of my life!" He grabbed Zexion's arm, pointing. "Look! There's Master Takezaki! And there's Darian Inazuma, and Dilan, and Rould, and all of my wonderful companions! And there." Even sighed happily, leaning on his hands. "There is Yumi." His face reddened slightly as he caught sight of another figure standing beside the petite, black-haired girl.

"And there I am," he said quietly.

As the two outsiders watched, Yumi approached the young Even shyly, saying something that made the blond young man blush violently. The older Even found his own cheeks warming as he recalled her bell-chime voice.

"_Even, won't you come dance with me?" Yumi pleaded softly._

_Even's cheeks flamed hotly. "Oh, Yumi," he squeaked nervously, running a hand around his collar. "I… er…"_

"_Please?" she begged, her eyes blinking up at him._

_Even felt himself melting inside, like an ice cube left too long in the sun, or placed beside a fire._

"_All right," he agreed with a smile, rising and taking her hands._

"Oh, we were so happy," Even sighed, his own smile soft and nostalgic. "I loved her so very much…"

Zexion crossed his arms, looking at Even with distaste. "Not enough to remain faithful forever," he said quietly.

"What—" Even began, but suddenly, the scene around them changed. Even stared at the dreary walls, listening to the rain pounding down outside.

"Why… it's the counting house," he said disbelievingly.

A slightly older Even was seated behind the counting desk, partially obscured by a huge mound of golden coins, which he was slowly moving from one side to the other.

"Three thousand, four hundred seventy-two," droned Even's voice from behind the gold. "Three thousand, four h—"

The door opened suddenly, and a slight young woman entered the room, folding shut her umbrella as she did so. Her black hair gleamed dully in the dim light, and her dark eyes were full of hurt and sadness.

"Even," she said softly. "Even, dear."

Younger Even's fingers paused in his counting, and older Even felt his heart sinking slowly into his toes. He remembered this day all too well.

"Yes, what?" Younger Even sounded annoyed, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor below the counting desk.

The young woman—Yumi—held up a rolled scroll tied with an elegant ice-blue ribbon.

"For years, I've held the deed to this little cottage," she said, in her sweet, barely-there voice. "I've been waiting for you to keep your vow to marry me; now I must be certain. What is your decision?"

"My decision is made," younger Even said, and for one instant, Yumi's eyes lit with hope. Older Even sighed heavily, knowing what was coming.

"Your final payment on the cottage was an hour overdue," younger Even snapped crisply. "I'm foreclosing the mortgage!"

It was almost as if the older Even could physically hear Yumi's heart cracking in two in the silence that followed. Slowly, she dropped the deed scroll onto the counting desk; then, with crystalline tears pooling in her eyes and rolling slowly down her cheeks, she turned and walked out of the counting house, slamming the door so hard behind her that all of the piled gold coins on the counting desk shook loose and rolled onto the floor. With a long drawn-out and exasperated sigh, younger Even dropped the coin he had been holding and bent down to begin gathering his money.

Older Even closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the memory settling there like lead behind his eyelids.

"Please, Zexion," he whispered hoarsely. "I… I cannot bear these memories any longer. Take us away from here."

Zexion's expression was impassive, and he stared down at Even intently, making the older man wilt further beneath his penetrating gaze. Finally, however, the counting house walls melted away, and the both of them were standing in Even's bedroom.

"Those awful memories…" Even murmured, putting a hand to his forehead. "Why would you take me there, Zexion?"

Zexion turned a final withering stare on Even.

"Do not forget, Master Even," he said, and although his voice was quiet, it seemed to echo around the darkened chamber.

"You crafted those memories yourself."

Before Even could reply to the young man's curt statement, there was a gust of wind through the open window. The air around Zexion seemed to shimmer and ripple, as if a giant had reached down and dipped his finger into it. Then, just like that, the boy was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**I wanted to go ahead and reiterate that I DO NOT OWN KINGDOM HEARTS.**

**Just so we're clear. I also want to apologize if some of the character last names upset you, fan-people. They're fake (obviously), I made them up. Don't know what the canon last names would be, so if you've got a correction, feel free to submit it through a review.**

**Also~ want to shout out to my FFN buddy MidnightSchemer13! You're awesome :D Thanks for reviewing. Also thanks to sonicdisney ^^ You guys are sweet like gingersnap cookies!**

Even stood for some time in silence, regarding the spot from which Zexion had vanished, as if expecting the boy to reappear any second.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Even went to the window and closed it, shutting out the blasts of cold air which had considerably lowered the temperature in the room. He went to the hearth and stacked a few logs inside, then struck a match and held it to the coal pile beneath the logs. In a short time, a cheerful fire blazed within the fireplace, dispelling the cold and casting dancing shadows across the walls.

Even climbed back into his four-poster bed, lying on his back and staring once more at the canopy above him. He did not sleep; how could he have? At every turn, the memories returned to haunt him. He saw clearly, from an outside perspective, the hurt and bitter betrayal on Yumi's delicate face. He had done that to her, with no more than a mere few words.

_How could I have been so foolish?_ he thought to himself.

A sudden rumbling roused him from his mental agonies. It sounded as though some beast were right outside his curtain, growling menacingly. Even imagined rows of sharp, pointed teeth, dripping with saliva, waiting to tear into his soft flesh.

"FEE!" boomed a sudden loud voice. Even jumped in fright, nearly tearing the curtains from their frame.

"FI!" the voice continued. "FO! FUM!"

_What nonsense is this? _Even wondered. Slowly, he peered out from between the curtains, and was met with one of the oddest sights he had ever seen.

Sitting in his armchair was a man of massive proportions, a veritable mountain of a human being. His arms, legs and torso bulged with muscle beneath his simple black coat, which was stretched tight over his immense frame. The man's face was twisted into an expression somewhere between a scowl and a puzzled look, and his shock of orange-brown hair stuck nearly straight up from his scalp, making him look as though he had just been struck by lightning.

Surrounding the man, though Even could not even begin to guess how it had gotten there, was a humongous feast. Plates of every sort of food one could imagine were arranged out on the floor around the armchair, sparkling and glittering in the firelight.

"I smell—oh, this is ridiculous," the man said suddenly. "Hisame! I know you're behind those curtains, now open up!"

Slowly, his arms trembling, Even shoved aside the curtains and faced the huge man.

"Wh-who are you?" he asked shakily.

"I'm called Lexaeus," the giant replied. "I'm the spirit of Christmas Present."

_Another spirit_, Even realized, his heart sinking in despair. He was not looking forward to another journey, not after what had happened with Zexion.

Looking for something, anything to distract himself, Even glanced down and caught sight once more of all the food lying on the floor.

"What is all this?" he asked. "Where did it come from?"

Lexaeus picked up a bunch of grapes and plucked one off, fingering it speculatively. "From the heart," he finally answered. "These are the fruits of generosity, which you have long denied your peers."

Even's eyes narrowed. "Generosity?" he exclaimed indignantly. "Nobody's ever shown _me _any generosity!" Angrily, he reached down to grab an iced coffee cake, his eyes flying wide again when his hand swiped right through it.

"You've never given them any reason to," Lexaeus replied simply. "And yet… there remain those with enough warmth and light in their hearts to care even for somebody like you."

Even glared at the spirit, vexation bubbling in his gut. "Hah! No friends of mine, you can be sure of that!"

"We'll see," Lexaeus replied calmly.

Suddenly, the entire room began shaking violently, as if an earthquake had decided, at just that time, to strike. Even fell to his knees, grasping at the bedpost to keep from sliding across the floor.

"What's happening?" he shouted, clutching the wooden post with white knuckles.

That was when a huge rock smashed in through the window, coming to rest right beside Lexaeus on the floor. Instantly, the trembling ceased, and the only audible sound was the keening of the night wind through the new hole in the wall.

Lexaeus walked over to the bed, and in one quick move, his massive left arm seized Even's torso and dragged him off of the bedframe. Lexaeus hoisted the smaller blond man onto his shoulder, Even's head hanging down on one side and his feet on the other.

"Let me go!" Even screamed, kicking and struggling. Lexaeus ignored his pleas, however, making his way over to the rock. The large man hopped onto the boulder, standing firm and planted as if he were part of the rock. The trembling started back up, and Even closed his eyes once more, gasping when the boulder jerked forward under them. He was sure they were about to fly right out of the window.

When nothing happened, he opened his eyes once more to see the boulder floating serenely along in the chilly night air, himself and Lexaeus perched atop it as it glided.

This time, Even did not speak, he merely shut his eyes again and waited for the ride to be over.

The boulder eventually touched down in a rutted, dingy side street in the poorest part of town. Lexaeus hopped down with Even still slung over his shoulder, setting the blond man down roughly on the uneven cobbles. Even stumbled a bit, still a touch wobbly from his second airborne ride of the night.

When he'd gotten his feet under him, Even straightened and looked about, taking closer stock of his surroundings. Most of the lights in the houses around were out, giving the alleyway a dark, claustrophobic feeling. Even didn't like it; it felt like the tiny dwellings were encroaching upon his own personal space.

The window of the house they had landed directly in front of, however, was lit by a dim, flickering golden light. The light cast shadows onto the lane similar to the ones which had danced on the walls of Even's chamber, but these seemed more sinister somehow; more eerie, like the shadows cast by the flames of Hades.

"Where are we?" Even asked uncertainly, his eyes darting from side to side with nervousness.

In answer, Lexaeus took him by the collar and marched him right up to the grimy window, shoving his face against the glass. Even was forced to peer into the small dwelling, his cheeks pressed so tightly to the windowpane that they felt nearly glued in place.

Within the house, a family was just sitting down to dinner, though the time outside must have been at least ten P.M. The man at the head of the table removed his hat, exposing a raggedly cut head of pale pink hair. With a start, Even recognized the young man as Lumaria, his employee at the counting house. Beside Lumaria sat a young, pretty woman with short blonde hair, neatly combed and pinned beside her ears. Around the table at two other places sat two small children; a boy with his mother's blond locks and huge chocolate-brown eyes, and a girl who sported her father's pink tresses and round cerulean orbs.

Lexaeus nodded, seeing the recognition and realization on Even's face.

"Yes," the large man said. "This is the home of Lumaria, your overworked, underpaid subordinate, and his family. Arlene," he pointed to the blonde woman, "works her hardest every day, cleaning and scrubbing and trying to cook meals enough to keep her three children alive."

Even raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Three children?" he asked. "I see only two."

Lexaeus's expression was grim, and his silence was almost more unbearable than an explanation would have been. Even turned back to the window, wary and almost frightened of what he might see.

From a small, crooked side doorway, previously unnoticed by the blond-haired watcher from outside, limped a small, pink-haired boy. His left leg was twisted unnaturally, and he supported himself with only a thin wooden crutch, fashioned crudely from a tree branch. He paused on his way to the thin table, bending double and beginning to shake and hack with violent coughs and tremors. Although the noise was not audible from outside the window, Even found himself wincing in sympathy for the poor child. His suffering must be unbearable.

Arlene quickly hurried to the boy's side, raising him in her arms and murmuring soothing words into his ear. His coughing continued for a few more moments before gradually subsiding into merely the occasional tremor. Gently, Arlene carried him to the table, sitting down with him in her lap. Beside her, Lumaria was placing a tin plate on the table. Even gaped in shock as he beheld the contents of the plate: one sad, thin turkey leg, a tiny pile of peas, and a single orange carrot.

"Surely they have more food than that…" he murmured, not sure whether he intended the statement for Lexaeus or merely for himself. Looking closely, he spied a cauldron bubbling over the meager fire in the hearth.

"Hah," he said in satisfaction. "There. Over the fire."

"That's your laundry," Lexaeus replied coldly. Even's satisfaction dissolved into something cold and heavy that settled into the bottom of his gut.

"T—tell me," he said, feeling every word like a weight on his tongue. "Tell me, please… what is wrong with that poor boy?" In Arlene's lap, the pink-haired boy was attempting to sit up, but seemed unable to manage it, slumping back down into a limp heap in his mother's arms.

Lexaeus released a heavy sigh. "Much, I fear," he said. "If nothing changes for this family in the near future… there by the table will stand an empty chair where young Lu once sat."

Even felt an icy hand grip his heart as he realized what Lexaeus was saying.

"Then… you're saying…" he began slowly, his voice wavering and cracking, "young Lu will… will…"

A sudden tremor prevented him from finishing his sentence. Lexaeus's grip on his collar released suddenly, and Even collapsed to his knees, scrambling up again just as quickly, ignoring the wet and icy patches soaking into his nightshirt. Frantically, he glanced around for any sign of Lexaeus.

The huge man had disappeared. Even was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

"No! Please!" Even's voice sounded shrill and frightened in the darkness, but he was beyond caring. The window before him had suddenly gone dark, taking with it the image of Lumaria and his family; of young Lu, wracked with coughs, shivering in the meager shelter of the house…

"Please!" Even begged, feeling the tightness in his throat. "Please, Lexaeus, come back! You must tell me what will happen to young Lu!"

A sudden puff of smoke into his face made Even cough and retch in disgust. It smelled like the worst, vilest brand of tobacco cigars, the cheap kind made from low-grade tobacco rolled in poor-quality paper.

Even waved the smoke away from his face, only to discover that it was everywhere now, surrounding him on all sides, blanketing everything in a gray smog. Furthermore, glancing down, he noticed frozen grass and dirt underfoot. He was no longer in the lane.

Even looked around, spotting a small, rectangular rock rising from the ground a few feet away.

_That's oddly uniform for just a random boulder_, he thought, feeling his chest constricting as he approached the object. Trembling, he bent down to inspect it, but it was too dark and foggy for him to get a proper look.

All of a sudden, a bright red light flared behind him, and Even gasped as he recognized the object for what it was: a headstone.

He was in the cemetery.

Slowly, Even turned around to face the source of the light. A lone hooded figure in a simple black coat stood behind him, a torch burning in the figure's left hand. The newcomer's entire face was in shadow, but there was something menacing about him that sent shivers all down Even's spine.

"A—are you," he began, pausing to swallow. "Are you the… the spirit of Christmas Future?"

Slowly, the black-clad figure nodded.

Even gulped, his throat feeling dry and scratchy as sand.

"Please," he said, feeling extremely vulnerable. "Please, spirit… what will happen to young Lu?"

The figure regarded him silently for a moment; then, suddenly, the smoke around them thinned, and Even could see across the cemetery. A small procession of people, one of them bearing a lit candle, was climbing the forlorn hill just to the side of where Even and the spirit stood. Even's throat sealed tightly as he recognized the faces of Lumaria, Arlene, and their two other children.

Slowly, Arlene bent down and placed the candle on the ground, beside a small, white grave marker that stood near the top of the hill. She stood back, tears glittering in her cocoa-brown eyes, her pale hand pressed to her mouth.

Lumaria bent his own knee, placing something else beside the grave, to lean up against it. With a start, Even realized it was young Lu's tree-branch cane.

So it was true. The boy was dead.

Without even meaning for it to happen, Even felt the warm trace of a tear as it slid down his cheek, dripping silently onto the barren ground below.

On the hilltop, Lumaria stood back up, tears coming to his own eyes. He wrapped comforting arms around Arlene and the children, and together, they turned and began walking back down the hill, lost in the mist before they reached the bottom.

"No," Even choked, his voice barely audible in the foggy gloom. "No, please!"

He turned a pleading, beseeching eye on the spirit, who was still watching him indifferently.

"Please, spirit," he begged. "Tell me this can be prevented. Please tell me there is yet time to change the course of these events…"

A sudden burst of raucous laughter made Even look up, his throat constricting once more in fear.

Off to the other side, two raggedly-dressed, dirty men stood at the side of an open grave, gazing down at whatever was in it.

"Never seen a funeral like this'n," the first man, a tall and lanky sort with greasy black hair, remarked casually.

His companion, a squat, stubby man who was missing several teeth, cackled wheezily. "Aye, that's true. No mourners, no friends to pass him on—just the two 'f us, an' I reckon that don't count for much where he's going."

The taller man snickered, and then sighed, wiping his brow. "'Ey, let's rest a tick afore we fill 'er in," he said.

The shorter one nodded his agreement, spitting a glutinous wad of something into the open grave. "Aye, mate. After all, he ain't going nowhere."

The two men marched away, snickering and chortling.

Slowly, Even approached the open grave, peering down into it. Faintly, at the bottom, he caught a glimpse of the plain wooden casket.

Even turned a fearful, quivering eye on the spirit, who was still watching him, torch held steadily in his left hand.

"P—please, spirit," Even said quietly, turning back to the deep hole. "Whose… whose lonely grave… is this?"

The spirit looked at him silently a moment more, then slowly reached up with his left hand, pushing back his hood. Even's eyes went wide with horror, and his knees felt on the verge of giving out.

The face staring back at him was Lumaria's.

The pink-haired young man regarded his master with contempt, tossing the torch into the grave. As Even watched, the wooden casket below slowly caught fire, the flames licking greedily at the pine box.

Then, to Even's everlasting terror, Lumaria extended his right hand outward. In his grasp appeared a long, wickedly curved, deadly sharp scythe, its blade glittering in the light from the fire within the grave. Lumaria pointed the blade straight at Even's heart, advancing forward, pushing Even back to the very edge of the grave. Even felt himself teetering on the brink, and he glanced over, needing, in that very moment, to know within whose grave he himself would be resigned to death.

The firelight flared brightly upon the headstone inscribed with these words:

_R.I.P.- Even Hisame._

"Why, this grave is yours, my dear master," Lumaria told him softly, the first words the spirit had spoken since arriving at Even's side.

The scythe shot forward, and Even stepped back, over the lip of the grave. He felt himself falling, staring back up as he plummeted, as though the entire world were moving in slow motion.

"You're the richest man in the cemetery!" Lumaria called after him, laughing wildly as Even fell the last few feet to his demise.

The doomed man closed his eyes, hoping, praying that in the last few seconds of his existence, he could somehow scrape up enough repentance for all the horrible things he had done.

He only came up with one thought:

_I'm sorry, Lu._

Hitting the coffin hurt less than Even had expected it would. There was no jarring snap of bones, no feeling of burning as the fire began licking at his nightshirt. It felt, to Even, more like falling out of bed than anything else.

_At least the spirits allowed me a peaceful end_, he thought despairingly. _It's more than I deserve after what I've turned out to be._

The seconds ticked past, turning into minutes as Even waited to fade away, to lose consciousness and enter the darkness of oblivion. The sensation of solid wood under him remained, however, and the darkness behind his eyelids steadily brightened to grey, patched with red and brown. As he realized that he was not dead, nor did he seem to be in the vicinity of dying, he noticed other details too that had before escaped his detection; he could feel some sort of soft cloth partly covering his body, and he could hear, though slightly muted, the sounds of bells chiming and people calling to each other.

Slowly, Even opened his eyes. He was lying on the wooden floor of his own bedroom, the duvet twisted and dragged to the floor with him. Light flooded in through the somehow-repaired window, and the sounds he heard were coming from beyond the glass.

Even threw the mussed bedcovers away from himself, jumped up, and dashed to the window, throwing it open wide. The crisp, shocking cold air of winter assaulted him instantly, accompanied by a flurry of bright white, icy snowflakes that settled in his hair and on his nightshirt. Below him, the streets were crowded with pedestrians and carriages, all happily calling to one another and creating a cheerful backdrop against which the bells finished chiming out the hour, nine A.M.

It was Christmas morning.

Even grinned, a broad smile that nearly split his face in two. He had been given mercy; a second chance to make things right. He did not know how, or why, but he intended to make all the best use of it.

"It's Christmas morning!" he exclaimed to the world. "I haven't missed it, after all! The spirits have allowed me a second chance!"

Quickly, a plan began formulating in his mind. He knew exactly what he would do on this first, brightest of days, a new beginning. Gone was the miserly old Even Hisame; in his place stood a new man, and what better day to make a start than Christmas morning?

Even ran to the closet and pulled out his overcoat, shoving his arms through the sleeves hurriedly, not bothering to remove his nightshirt or slippers. All the while, his list of objectives ran through his mind, repeating itself over and over.

"Oh, so much to do!" he said, grabbing his top hat and shoving it on over his nightcap, his long blond hair still in messy tangles around his shoulders. In another instant, he was out the door. He had made it halfway down the stairs when he realized what he was doing, turned around, and marched right back up again, throwing the bedroom door open wide.

"I can't go out like this!" The statement seemed almost astonished as it flew from his mouth. Quickly, he looked around, grabbed a scarf from the bureau and his cane from its stand, and straightened the collar of his overcoat.

"There," he announced. Then he was out the door again and flying down the stairs.

Messrs. Tarmidge and Madigan were men of reputable rank and great charity. Well-known throughout their small town for their willingness to beg alms for the poor, even when they themselves had no need for the money and no real motive for their generosity, the two men prided themselves on their ability to turn anyone, even the sourest, most miserly old bachelor or old maid, into a giving philanthropist with just one shake of their collector's tin.

Following their failure with Hisame, the two men quietly began discussing the possibility that perhaps some people simply had no goodness in their hearts whatsoever. Tarmidge blamed Even's own personal greed and lust for gold; Madigan, a slightly softer and more forgiving soul, speculated that some aspect of Even's childhood had caused his metamorphosis into this most miserable of misers. Whatever the source, both men agreed heartily that Even Hisame was a lost cause. No amount of light or goodness could touch the monster of greed whose nest was in the treasure-master's heart.

This was why when, on Christmas morning, Even Hisame himself emerged from his massive brick residence dressed only in a black overcoat over a pale blue nightshirt, sporting bedroom slippers, a top hat over a nightcap, and a tangled mess of bedhead, and proceeded to slide down the front doorstep stair railing, both Tarmidge and Madigan stared in wide-eyed befuddlement, noting the huge smile on the blond man's face and the jaunty, open way with which he carried himself, as if it were perfectly normal for people to emerge into the snowy street dressed in barely more than their knickers.

"He's finally lost it all, Mister Madigan," Tarmidge whispered to his compatriot as Even approached, grinning broadly at the both of them.

Madigan elbowed the other man with a reproving look, and then turned to the newcomer. "Good morning, Master Even," he greeted politely.

"Ah, good morning, sirs!" Even exclaimed brightly. "And a very Merry Christmas to you!"

Both men's eyebrows shot up simultaneously. Just _what _was going on here?

"Say, your pockets are looking a little empty," Even remarked with a frown.

Tarmidge shot a glare at the treasure-master. Was this some kind of joke? Some cruel dig at them for failing to turn Even to generosity?

Even's expression brightened suddenly, and he looked like an idea had just hit him. "I know what we shall do!" he cried. He opened up his overcoat, revealing an array of deep, wide pockets. As both Tarmidge and Madigan watched, spellbound, Even pulled a brown sack from one of the pockets and tossed it into Madigan's collecting cup. It made a heavy _clunk_ as it landed in the tin vessel.

Curiously, Madigan untied the mouth of the bag, gasping when it fell back to reveal—

"—one hundred munny!" Even said brightly, with a huge smile.

"One hundred munny?" gasped Tarmidge, staring at Even with a thunderstruck expression.

The blond man tapped his chin, as if thinking. "Ah, you're right. It's not enough. Here." He pulled two more bags from his pockets, tossing them at the feet of Tarmidge. "Five hundred munny!"  
>"Oh, no, Master Even, it's—" Tarmidge began, holding up a hand.<p>

"Still not enough!" Even shouted. He pulled a final, humongous bag from his pockets, dropping it before Madigan. "There. One thousand munny, and not a single coin more!"

"Oh, thank you, Master Even!" Madigan exclaimed, a smile of delight spreading across his features.

"My pleasure, and a Merry Christmas!" Even called, veritably dancing away across the cobbles. Tarmidge and Madigan watched him go, astonished expressions painted across their features. Tarmidge turned to Madigan, sighing.

"I take it back, Mister Madigan. He's found everything he lost."

Even waltzed down the street in a haze of excitement, loudly wishing a Merry Christmas to every person he passed. Most of them returned the greeting with odd looks or raised eyebrows, but Even did not care. He had a plan. He knew where he was going, and he'd sooner take another airborne joyride with the spirits than pause for a few strange expressions.

The toy shop owner looked absolutely thunderstruck when Even marched in through the cheerfully painted red door and demanded to see all of the best toys that the man had to offer. He was even more flabbergasted, if possible, when Even pulled out a sack of coins, bought every toy he was shown, and told the other man to keep the change.

"And a very Merry Christmas to you!" Even shouted over his shoulder.

The toy shop owner could only nod and stare.

Even's progress was slower now that he had the huge bundle over his back, but his face was no less cheerful and his greetings no less enthusiastic. If possible, he seemed even more filled with merriment than before.

As Even stepped out into one of the main avenues, he barely missed being impacted by a carriage coming full-tilt right for him. The horse snorted loudly and swerved, causing the carriage's wheels to rock dangerously as it skidded to the side. From within, a loud voice called, "What's going on?"

Even stopped to look up, waving gaily as a brightly-dressed young man with red hair stood up from the carriage driver's seat, peering down into the road.

"Good morning, nephew!" he called cheerfully.

Lea's eyes widened in shock as he caught sight of his uncle standing in the street. "Uncle Even?" he asked incredulously. "Is that… you?"

"Who else would it be, you silly?" Even laughed. "Still having that Christmas feast?"

Lea looked stunned for a moment, and then shook it off, smiling brightly. "Of course we are!"

"Excellent! I'll see you at dinnertime!"

Lea grinned broadly. "You mean you _are _coming?"

"Certainly! You know I can't resist spiced coffee with caramel!" Even exclaimed. "I'll be over promptly at two; keep it warm for me!"

Lea waved as his uncle started off down the road again, his smile nearly as bright as the steadily rising winter sun.

"I will, Uncle Even!" he called. "Merry Christmas!"

Twenty minutes after leaving Lea at the broad avenue, Even finally reached his destination: a small, rutted lane pocked with broken cobbles and studded with sharp pieces of rock. He had made several more stops along the way, and now his large bundle was filled nearly to the bursting point with all the purchases he had made.

Even stood outside the wooden doorstep of the last house in the lane, trying to rid his face of the irrepressible smile. He had to make this convincing to get the full effect.

Slowly, with great effort, he banished the smile from his face, assuming his usual bored, disaffected expression. With this done, although only tenuously maintained, Even raised his free hand and knocked hard on the shabby door; once, twice, then thrice.

After a few seconds, the door opened wide. Lumaria stood just within, his pale face twisted with confusion which quickly turned to dread when he saw who his visitor was.

The change in Lumaria's expression made Even's gut wrench. How horribly he had treated this poor young man…

But no. Now, that was all going to change.

Even cleared his throat, keeping his emotionless expression steady and waiting for Lumaria to speak.

He did. "Good morning, Master Even," the pink-haired young man greeted, his voice soft and trembling in the narrow closeness of the lane. "Merry Christmas—"

"Christmas, bah," Even spat, nearly wincing at the sound of his own voice. Had he really sounded like that for so long?

"I've another bundle for you," he announced to Lumaria, moving through the door without an invitation. The room beyond was dimly lit by the hearth fire, the shadows flickering upon the dingy walls. Arlene sat in a chair by the fire, sewing a patch onto the knee of a tiny pair of trousers. The three children sat huddled together at her feet, their arms around each other in an attempt to keep warm. Even's heart lurched at the sight of them, relief flooding through him as he saw the sheet-white face of young Lu between the arms of his brother and sister.

"But… but sir, it's Christmas day!" Lumaria protested quietly, shutting the door and turning to face his master, a hopeless expression on his face.

"Christmas day!" Even exclaimed. "I've had enough of this Christmas business!" He dropped his bundle on the floor beside the fire. The lip fell open slightly, just enough for one of the topmost toys to slip out and onto the floor; a brown, furry teddy bear, its button eyes sparkling brightly. Quickly, Even bent down to retrieve it before the children noticed.

"But Master Even—" Lumaria began, the despair veritably oozing from his tone.

Even stuffed the teddy bear quickly back into the sack, moving over to Lumaria and cutting him off loudly. "And no more of this half-day off nonsense, either!"  
>Lumaria's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Even continued, working hard to maintain his glare, which he could sense was on the verge of a collapse.<p>

"You have left me with no choice," he continued, feeling his voice starting to break with laughter, "but to give—to give you—"

"Toys!" came an exclamation from behind. Turning, Even saw that young Lu had crawled his way over to the bundle and pulled it open, spilling its contents onto the floor. Sighing, his secret revealed, Even dropped his façade, smiling.

"Yes, toys," he said, then realized whom he was still addressing. "No, no, no!" he corrected quickly, holding up his hands, then just as quickly dropping them onto Lumaria's shoulders and looking the rosette young man square in the face.

"I'm giving you a vacation and a raise," he said finally, smiling. "And I'm making you my business partner."

Lumaria stared uncomprehendingly into his master's face, his mouth formed into a perfect O of shock. Finally, he managed, "P—partner?"

Even nodded, wrapping an arm around Lumaria's thin shoulders gently. In her chair, Arlene was staring at him too, her fingers pressed tightly to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes as she realized what was happening.

"Merry Christmas, Lumaria," Even said softly, smiling at the young man as he fought to control the many emotions overpowering him at once.

Suddenly, Even felt a small tug on the hem of his nightshirt. Looking down, he saw young Lu at his feet, smiling up at the taller figure with all of the knowing and yet innocent tenderness of a child. Gently, Even leaned down and scooped the boy into his arms, cradling the twisted leg carefully so as not to cause the child pain.

"Merry Christmas, Lu," he told the boy with a sincere, tender smile.

Lu wrapped his thin arms around Even's neck, hugging the older man tightly. "And God bless us, every one," he said into Even's ear.

This time, Even's tears flowed freely.

End

**Okay, just wanted to clarify for you guys: I know I've been using the Nobodies as the spirits, but then the final spirit looked like Lumaria. You guys go 'Marluxia? But he's not a Nobody yet in your story! What are you doing to our brains, Thex?'**

**The final spirit is kind of an open-interpretation thing. He's not Marluxia, because there is no Marluxia, but he's clearly not Lumaria, because Lumaria is a person. The spirits before him had definite characters because they were designed more to educe Even's buried guilt and shame than to drop the final blow. The final spirit bears Lumaria's face simply as a last reminder that being cruel in life will come back to hurt you. Just wanted to make that clearer; he's neither Marly or Lu. I see him as sort of a blank-faced ghost figure, onto whom Even's conscience projects Lumaria's face. You guys can interpret how you want, but I just wanted to banish confusion.**

**I'm also aware that the KH characters might not technically believe in God; however, 'God bless us, every one,' is a classic Christmas Carol line, so I felt that it needed to be there for traditional purposes despite some ambiguity regarding their actual beliefs. **

**Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to MidnightSchemer13 and sonicdisney for reviewing :D you guys are like, the best! Merry Christmas.**


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